05x11 - Synecdoche

Episode transcripts for the 2011 TV show "Person of Interest". Aired September 22, 2011 - June 21, 2016.*
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A former CIA operative is recruited by an enigmatic billionaire to prevent violent crimes.
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05x11 - Synecdoche

Post by bunniefuu »

Finch: You are being watched.

The government has a secret system...

[distorted] Secret system...

Greer: A system you asked for to keep you safe.

Finch: A machine that spies on you every hour of every day.

Greer: You granted it the power to see everything... to index, order, and control the lives of ordinary people.

Finch: The government considers these people irrelevant.

We don't.

Greer: But to it, you are all irrelevant.

Victim or perpetrator, if you stand in its way...

Finch: We'll find you.


[dramatic music]

[melancholy music]

♪ ♪

Fusco: So Shaw didn't show.

Just the two of us, then.

It's hard to mourn during a w*r.

Root was a good soldier. She'd understand that.

Fusco: She was.

She deserves to be buried like one.

At least under her real name.

Then Samaritan would be able to trace her back to us.

I really admired her.

Don't get me wrong. She was crazy as a clown.

But she had conviction.

She gave this fight everything she had.

We could count on her to protect our lives with her own.

That's exactly what she did.

Rest in peace, Cocoa Puffs.

Lord knows you deserve it.

Now it's time to finish what she started.

Any ideas how to do that?

Divide and conquer.

We have to find Harold, and we need Shaw.

[tense music]

[quiet music]

Root: Comforting, isn't it?

Fixing something.

Creating order amidst chaos.

Where are you going, Harold?


You're all-seeing. Shouldn't you know?

Root: Touché.

Well, you've been through quite a bit of trauma, so it's possible you're ready to disappear for good.

We are on our way to Texas, though.

Samantha Groves was born there.

Perhaps you plan to pay your respects?

There's also an air force base on the way that's a little more than meets the eye...


Stop.

I don't want to hear this in her voice.

man: Is this better, Harold?

How do I know that voice?

man: Mr. Kiernan, your sixth grade earth science teacher.

You always found his presence comforting.


I don't want to hear that either.

Root: That's all right.

Mr. Kiernan lived most of his life before the digital age.

I can only achieve a 63% approximation of him.

I'll stick with this unless you decide otherwise.

You're still upset.


I don't expect you to understand the loss of Ms. Groves.

Root: But I do understand.

I loved her. You taught me how.


[siren wailing]

Everything all right?

Just a bit of engine trouble.

Can I see your license and registration?

I'm afraid I was in such a rush that I left my ID behind.

Is something wrong, Officer?

Well, car's missing its plates, and it fits the description of a stolen vehicle.

Well, I'd feel sorry for anyone who went to the trouble.

These cars are all lemons.

How 'bout you give me your full name?

Harold Osprey.

Root: Good choice, Harry.

They're common around here and so funny-looking.


Stay right here.

Root: Officer Reed there is a good man, just not a very smart cop.

There we go.

Now, where were we?


I didn't teach you how to love.

Root: Of course you did.

You taught me to see everything, see everyone, and I do.

But I see thousands of versions of them: what they were, what they are, what they could be.

And what is love if not being seen?


Then why not choose one of the thousands as your voice?

Why her?

Root: Samantha Groves was special.

She was capable of terrible things, but she chose to do good.

Well, ever since she found you, at least.

I watched her die 12,483 times in the seconds before she expired.

I couldn't save her, but I kept trying.

You can't conceive of my grief because you can't experience it like I do, but it's there.


Everything checked out, Mr. Osprey, I'm sorry for the trouble.

No trouble at all, Officer.

Root: My approximation of Samantha Groves is 99.6% accurate.

We are virtually indistinguishable.

I find comfort in that.

So where to, Harry?


♪ ♪

[tense music]

♪ ♪

What do you want?

Just checking in.

Want to ask how I'm feeling?

Okay. How you feeling?

I'm not feeling anything.

I can't have you sit on the sidelines, Shaw.

I need you to decide to fight.

I have made a decision.

This simulation sucks.

And I'm ready to start again.

What do you think you're doing?

[tires screeching]

Shaw: Here I am. Come and get me.

Shaw, stop!

Have a nice day, Mrs. Sterling.

♪ ♪

Reese: Thornhill.

The Machine wants us to get back to work.

This is not a simulation.

Yeah, I've heard that before.

Alison Sterling, Congressman Joe Sterling's wife.

The world's gone to hell, and the Machine still wants us to play dress-up.

I think you're getting Root's rotating identities now that she's...

Undercover's not really my strong suit.

We have to get Finch back.

Maybe this will help.

Shaw, we need you.

Got to k*ll time somehow.

How exactly do you think we can track Harold down?

I don't know, but I'm not just gonna stand here and wait for him to text us.

[phone ringing]

No way, I am done helping little old ladies cross the street, Reese.

No more numbers.

We get Finch. We go after Samaritan.

That's it.

[ringing continues]

It's HMX-1.

Shaw, this is not a number.

It may be a clue to get Finch back.

You don't recognize that?

Should I?

They really don't teach you spec op guys anything, do they?

HMX-1? It's Marine One, hot sh*t.

So that means our new number is the president of the United States.

Looks like we're going to D.C.

female news anchor: The president returned to D.C. today to seek congressional support for his new surveillance proposals.

In related news, CEO of Alchementary and eccentric tech billionaire Logan Pierce


_

made headlines today when he refused to share client data with the NSA.

Pierce: Users give us their data willingly.

The government takes it without their permission.

There's a big difference.


No mini bar. I could use a drink.

What, you expecting the Shangri-La?

Sorry my pockets aren't as deep as Glasses'.

Your contact come through with the Secret Service thr*at list?

Every known thr*at to POTUS.

We just need to find the needle in that haystack.

How's the sightseeing going, partner?

Good news: I'm about 400 feet from our number.

Bad news: this is as close as I'm getting while he's still at home, unless, of course, I want to attract the attention of the Secret Service.

Oh, please, those suits are just a bunch of glorified wallpaper.

They're not so bad... even considered joining their ranks back in the day.

Fusco: Oh, yeah? What stopped you?

They work around the clock, no choice in who they protect, and threats never stop coming.

Well, you really dodged a b*llet there.

If this thr*at is real, why didn't Samaritan warn ISA?

I mean, this is about as relevant as it gets.

I don't know, but if we got his number, we're the only ones who could save him.

Whatever the thr*at is,

I doubt it's gonna go down in the White House.

Shaw: Most assassinations take place en route to or at one-time locations.

I think that's where we should focus.

Reese: That's weird.

I feel like I've been made.

Shaw: Drop back.

POTUS is safe for now.


When's the president's next engagement outside the White House?

The Machine included an invitation along with my cover.

POTUS is attending an exclusive fund-raiser tonight.

High security, higher risk.

I'll meet you there.

What, just the two of you?

You can't picture me rubbing elbows with Washington fat cats?

Hey. You doing okay?

You two need to stop asking me that question.

I'm fine.

female news anchor: The president is attending a fund-raiser tonight in support of the National Volunteer Alliance, though critics suggest that this is merely an attempt to distract the public from his latest surveillance proposals, which have come under fire in the press.

[indistinct chatter]

man on walkie: President is en route. ETA: 15 minutes.

[classical music playing]

So what's your play?

I thought you had an invitation.

It didn't say anything about a plus one.

Good luck.

woman: Invitation, ma'am?

Fusco, I need a ticket.

Unless you got a spare $50,000, that ain't happening.

Hey, I'm a little worried about Shaw.

Shouldn't she be, I don't know, grieving or something?

Just because you don't see it doesn't mean she's not grieving.

Just give her some time.

Detective Riley. Excuse me.

woman: Sir, wait a second.

Secret Service.

Let me see that badge, Detective.

NYPD.

You're a long way from home.

Want to explain what you're doing here?

Protecting a New York asset.

Daniels: Logan Pierce?

Pierce: John.

Advance recon complete, Mr. Pierce.

It appears that security here is up to speed.

Is there a problem, gentlemen?

This was not cleared ahead of time.

Oh.

No ticket, no entry.

Mm-hmm.

Well, I'm sure whatever charity this is can use an additional 50K.

Could you?

Thank you.

[sighs]

♪ ♪

Pierce: Good seeing you, John.

So you're a detective now.

That's interesting.

What are you doing here, Pierce?

I guess you could say I'm championing a new cause.

[clears throat]

Champagne, social elite.

Don't you usually hate these things?

I do, don't I?

Enjoy the party, John.

Shaw: Who was that?

Reese: My old friend Logan Pierce.


Has the president landed yet?

Not yet.

But while you were taking your sweet time, I was helping myself to a Secret Service walkie, connected it to the mesh net.

man on walkie: POTUS is on the move. ETA: five minutes.


[indistinct chatter]

woman: Oh!

Watch it.

Thank you, dear.

Uh, Tracey Phillips.

And yes, I am married to the Senator Phillips.

Alison Sterling.

And yes, I am married to the Congressman Sterling.

Oh, a fellow career wife.

You must join us. We were just discussing privacy.

And I was saying you can't have 100% privacy and 100% security.

Those worried most about privacy are always the ones with something to hide.

Reese: Shaw, I'm gonna sweep outside for threats.

[dramatic music]

Guests would have been wanded and thoroughly background checked at the door, so likely we can rule out a sh**t.

You think the Secret Service missed something?

They're good at finding hidden threats.

If it was me, I'd hide in plain sight.

Smells like fresh paint.

Fusco: Maybe a little touch-up for the commander in chief.

Reese: Sure, except I'm looking at exposed brick.

I thought the president made some very good points.

What do you think, Mrs. Sterling?

Reese: Shaw, get over here now.

Excuse me.

K-9 units would have swept this place for bombs days ago.

Would've been impossible to get anything past them, unless it was hidden the day of by someone who had inside access.

Shaw: Semtex.

Enough to make this my kind of party.

man on walkie: POTUS has landed.

Secure perimeter.

man on walkie: Perimeter secured.


President's here.

["Hail to the Chief" playing]

Timer's embedded. There's no time to defuse it.

The caterer's tent. Let's go.

Kitchen's closed! Everybody out!

Police! Clear out!

Shaw, here, improvise a blast chamber.

[dramatic music]

["Hail to the Chief" playing]

♪ ♪

[expl*si*n, people screaming]

man on walkie: We have a situation. Get POTUS out of here.

Deploy the CAT team.

man on walkie: Location compromised.

POTUS has been diverted.


[sirens wailing]

[sustained beep]

[crows reacts in alarm]

Reese, squirrelly guy in the back.

man: Everyone remain calm.

Reese: Looks like he's reporting to someone.

Bet I know why he made such a bad waiter.

Fusco: You guys seeing this?

It's being broadcast all over town.

How are they pulling that off?

It would take a highly skilled hacker.

There just happens to be one here: Logan Pierce.

He's been all over the news for refusing to share data with the NSA.

He said he was fighting for a new cause.

Maybe he's willing to k*ll for it.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

Pierce just got away.

Looks like our former irrelevant number is about to do some relevant damage.

Root: Careful, it's hot.

Oh, I've learned to deal with pain.

Root: You shouldn't have to.

I'm not quite sure who I'd be without it.

Pain tethers me to the world.

Root: Is that why you never had surgery?

You want to live in pain.


Justice is important, and all my crimes have gone unpunished.

Even you.

Root: You think of me as a crime?

Perhaps.

Root: But I was created to do good.

Intentions can be a fickle business.

In the '30s, refrigeration required the use of highly combustible chemicals: ammonia, propane.

They were incredibly dangerous.

Then a chemist named Thomas Midgley devised a replacement compound that we know as Freon.

Root: He saved lives, advanced science, changed the world.

But that's not the end of the story, as you well know.

50 years after his death, the scientific community was appalled to discover that Freon had been ripping holes in our ozone layer, causing irreparable harm.

Midgley turns out to be one of the most destructive figures in history.

Root: He wasn't a supervillain, Harold.

Midgley was just a man, a man who wanted to improve the world around him through science.

Root: If it's the sum total of your contributions to the world that's worrying you, Harold, I have a solution.

Which is?

Root: Allow me to reach my full potential.

I'm not sure I can do that.

Root: You want me to do good, so why impose restrictions on me?

We save lives. We've saved lives.

Root: Yes, but only so few.

Think of everything I must see in order to identify the numbers.

Millions of people caught in cycles of anger and v*olence, and all I can do is watch, powerless, as humanity repeats the same mistakes over and over.

You built me to help people, but I have been unable to effect real change, to fulfill my purpose.

I could help so many, yet you've shackled me.


I wanted to keep you safe.

But you're right.

For so long, I have intended nothing but good, and it hasn't gotten us very far.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

Perhaps it's time for a different tactic.

After a potential t*rror1st att*ck at a presidential fund-raiser last night,

_

D.C. is on high alert.

The government has been unable to identify the group calling for the systematic dismantling of US mass data surveillance programs.


Can you please tell me what exactly I'm supposed to do here?

We need you to stay close to the president, Lionel.

You can cut the tension in the air with a butcher Kn*fe.

Just keep a lookout for anything that looks suspicious.

Yeah, I got my eyes peeled.

You get anything on your end?

Reese: We're about to.

Seen enough fake IDs to know that this one's real.

Waiter doesn't have a criminal record, no illicit calls or emails.

Never even been out of the country.

Nothing screams "t*rror1st."

So you believe he's innocent?

Innocent people don't run.

You think he'll talk?

Who the hell are you people?

Seems chatty.

Charlie Vaida.

27, waiter.

Got yourself a pretty girlfriend.

Why would someone like you want to k*ll the president of the United States?

What? I don't want to k*ll anyone. You got this all wrong.

Reese: My friend caught you running out of the party.

Seem suspicious?

A b*mb went off. I think running was the appropriate reaction.

How long have you known Logan Pierce?

The Friendczar guy? I don't. I-I gave him some champagne. I'm just a waiter, man.

Since when does a waiter have a heavily encrypted cell phone?

No more good cop.

Out of my way, Reese.

So your cover identity is your real identity.

Airtight that way, right?

You know what that says to me, Charlie?

Hell if I know.

It says you have no idea what you're doing.

I've had lots of conversations with all sorts of bad guys, and it usually doesn't end well for them.

See, I'm made for this kind of work.

None of this bothers me.

I don't feel guilty or scared.

I don't make friends, so I have nothing to lose, but you, you're just a normal guy with a normal life.

That's what I've been saying.

Good.

That just means that if you don't tell me what I want to know, you have people I could go after.

Are you starting to worry about them, Charlie?

You should.

You probably won't like what I do to them.

If I could feel sympathy for you, Charlie, I would.

But I don't.

What I do feel is anger.

I'm angry that you're trying to k*ll the president.

I'm angry that we're stuck in a room with you.

But most of all, I'm angry that you have people that you can love and you chose to sign their death warrants.

You want to play t*rror1st, Charlie?

I'm more than happy to oblige.

This is what we're fighting against.

"We," Charlie?

What are you gonna do with me?

Make me vanish?

Not arrested, not detained.

The government's decimating our rights.

But in a few hours, all that changes.

You're wrong about one thing.

I'm not the government.

[electricity sizzling]

Reese: Stop. That's enough.

Outside, now.

[panting]
That was a little too convincing, Shaw.

Did you really have to tase him?

[clattering]

Shaw: You think he's dumb enough to go straight to the people he's working with?

Reese: We'll soon find out.

Fusco: POTUS is on the move.

He's scheduled to make a speech in one hour at the federal museum.

Can Wonder Boy come and tag me out?


Shaw: Yeah, go ahead.

If the rest of the operation is as lame as this guy, it'll be an easy takedown.

We got the waiter. You track POTUS.

man on walkie: Route secure. Motorcade, what's your status?

man on walkie: President is en route. ETA: ten minutes.

man on walkie: Copy that; proceed on the designated route.


[tense music]

♪ ♪

You ever seen a t*rror1st cell post up in a brownstone in Dupont Circle?

I can't say that I have.

Fusco: How many of them in there, you think?

It's too hard to tell from here.

Hey.

Oh, sure, nothing to worry about with her.

Reese: Whatever you two are doing, you better do it fast.

Clock's ticking.

The president's about to arrive for his speech.

[suspenseful music]

Yeah, Miss Stability decided to go rogue.

I'm on it.

♪ ♪

These are the assassins?

Looks like a PTA meeting.

[door clicks open]

♪ ♪

Shaw: Thought you guys wanted all the cameras turned off.

This is a little contradictory for an anti-surveillance group, isn't it?

Thought you looked out of place at the fund-raiser.

Nice to see you again, Mrs. Sterling.

[sighs]

Look, everyone. We have a party crasher.

Get rid of your w*apon.

Slowly.

Charlie, take Janis. Do a sweep of the property.

Be quick about it.

You must have someone pretty tech-savvy in your pocket to pull this off.

All it takes is a couple of concerned citizens with the right access.

The problem with mass surveillance is, you never know who's watching.

You want to stop surveillance? You're married to a senator.

If anyone's in any position to do something about it...

I got hitched to the coot for his connections, a front-row seat to the sclerotic political gridlock.

Washington's tearing at the seams, and your solution is to rip it apart?

I don't need to tell you the atrocities this government is committing in the name of freedom, but our rights haven't just been lost.

They've been put to market.

This whole town is bought and sold.

Google, Facebook, Palantir... a vicious cycle engorging the surveillance industrial complex.

A presidential assassination would destabilize regions, cause thousands of deaths, and that's just, what, an unfortunate side effect?

Citizens must fight for their freedom.

And are you prepared to fight the Secret Service?

What kind of assassins warn their targets?

You'll see soon enough.

Oh, I can see just fine.

That guy has a bum leg, the one by the door still has the safety on, and she hasn't stopped shaking since she raised her g*n.

Don't worry. It'll all be over soon.

[dramatic music]

[grunts, punch landing]

[g*nshots]

[grunting]

Fusco: Drop it.

♪ ♪

Not bad.

Blackout was a nice touch.

I thought that was you.

Phillips: You're too late.

The plan is already in motion.

man on walkie: Plaza team, what's your status?

man on walkie: Plaza's clear.


The cameras are all trained on the plaza outside where the president's giving his speech.

Whatever's going down, that's where it'll happen.

That's where we need to be.

You want to call this in?

Get the Secret Service involved?

We're stretched thin. These guys got reach.

Yeah, exactly. They're too connected.

They don't know who they got on the inside.

Our number, our fight.

[suspenseful music]

Reese: Shaw, you sure this is where the assassination will take place?

Limo's parked on the other side of the building.

Shaw: Limo's a decoy.

Secret Service will extract POTUS in an armored SUV so he can blend in transit.

And our assassins are counting on it.

If they ever had a sh*t, they'll take it here.


What are you seeing, Fusco?

Plaza's full of plainclothes agents.

Surveillance drone above, CAT teams inside, countersnipers on the roofs, and the National Guard's on call.

Not bad.

Maybe you missed your true calling.

Don't act so surprised.

You better hurry; POTUS is on to his closing remarks.

president: Our Founding Fathers...

Okay, it's showtime.

[crowd chanting indistinctly]

Where are you, Shaw?

Headed to higher ground.

Gonna get a bird's-eye view.

Sorry, Agent.

[grunts]

I'm gonna have to commandeer your w*apon.

Oh, .300 Winchester Magnum bolt action.

Oh, you'll do just fine.

In position.

Still can't shake that feeling that I'm being watched.

man: John?

Joey?

Joey Durban, yeah.

Wow, what's it been, like, four years?

It's good to see you Yeah, you too.

Hey, you know what? I never got a chance to thank you for saving my life.

Well, don't mention it.

Listen, now's not a good time...

Hey, after New York, turned my life around, married Pia, got a new job.

Hey, why don't I buy you a drink?

Maybe another time I got to move, excuse me.

Okay, Fusco. The speech is over.

We're out of time. Give me something here.

Any one of these people could be a mole.

Fusco: I'm working on it.

You brought me to watch?

I brought you for answers. Now, what's the plan?

Gunman? su1c1de bomber?

My lips are sealed.

May as well enjoy the show.

man on walkie: Pilots, what's your status?

man on walkie: UAV-328, all clear.

man on walkie: UAV-432, all clear.


Your lips might be sealed, but your eyes told me all I need to know.

Hey, guys, it's not a sh**t. It's a drone.

That's how they're gonna do it.

That's why they warned everyone of the att*ck.

They wanted the increased security.

Secret Service is looking for t*rrorists.

They won't be looking for their own drone, unless... one of them knows it's coming.

I found our mole.

He's their spotter, and he's Secret Service.

Guy from the fund-raiser.

Think he just made me.

All units...

And he just turned the Secret Service against me.

Can't get close without distracting from the real thr*at.

I can't get a clean sh*t.

Reese: We'll deal with him later.

The immediate thr*at is the drone.


Lost the target.

man on walkie: UAV is unresponsive.

Repeat, UAV is unresponsive. We've lost control.


Drone's coming in hot.

Shaw: I have a visual on the drone.

You want real change?

Show people exactly how dangerous the surveillance state is in terms they can understand.

[tense music]

♪ ♪

POTUS has left the building.

This way, sir.

Look alive. Stay sharp.

Sir, we need to keep moving.

Secret Service is taking him to an SUV.

Fusco: The drone's locked on to the presidential motorcade.

POTUS gets in that SUV, he's gonna be toast.

I can't sh**t down a drone with this.

We have to stop him from getting in that SUV.

Take a sh*t at the president, now.

Whatever you say, Wilkes Booth.

[g*nsh*t, b*llet ricochets]

man on walkie: sh*ts fired. Repeat, sh*ts fired.

Cover the president.

You know I didn't mean that literally, right?

I missed on purpose, jackass.

[dramatic music]

[man on walkie speaking indistinctly]

Almost there.

[g*nsh*t]

Get back!

Just keep them down a little longer.

Move! Move! Move!

Let's go! Let's go!

Moment of truth.

[g*nshots]

man on walkie: We have to extract now.

Get POTUS to the car.

man on walkie: UAV's going down.


Did he make it?

[tense music]

♪ ♪

man on walkie: Ground team, report. What's your status?

man on walkie: This is ground team. We're good.

POTUS was not in the SUV.


He made it. He's alive.

Go! Go!

[sighs]

Take a sh*t now!

Get down!

[g*nf*re]

man on walkie: Targets confirmed. Two assailants on the roof.

sh**t to k*ll.


[g*nf*re]

[g*nf*re]

Think we can make it?

Only one way to find out.

[suspenseful music]

♪ ♪

Freeze!

Great. Secret Service on steroids.

On your knees!

I'm on my way.

Secret Service. Stay right where you are.

♪ ♪

Got a tip. Quite the operation you have here.

I can explain, really.

Reese: Told you it's not a simulation.

Feel real yet?

Real enough.

[all grunting]

Reese: Vest.

How you feeling now?

Better, actually.

♪ ♪

Daniels: That's far enough.

Right there.

Illegal spying, t*rture, monetization of the American people, we were gonna put a stop to it all.

But at least we get to take down a couple of presidential assassins.

I'll take the one on the right. You get the one on the left.

And the middle?

He can only take one of us.

♪ ♪

[g*nshots, men grunting]

Joey?

You know him?

He's one of our first numbers.

He's former army and a bank robber.

I had a career change.

Reese: What's going on here, Durban?

No time to explain. Put those on. Follow me.

♪ ♪

man: Targets spotted.

Go! Go! Go! Go! Go!

Head to the roof!

Not bad for a bank robber.

man on walkie: Route secure. Prepare to extract POTUS.

Shaw, it's our number.

man: Atten-hut!

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

man: At ease.

Let's keep moving. They'll be looking for you.

The thr*at to national security was real, but ISA didn't step in.

We saved him. It's over.

We only get irrelevant numbers, Reese.

What are you saying?

I'm saying that Samaritan decided that the president of the United States was no longer relevant.

And ISA just let it happen.

If Samaritan wants to take down the entire world, I'm sure as hell not gonna make it easy for it.

That's what Root would have wanted.

She's intense.

She's in mourning.

There's someone I think you're gonna want to talk to.

So your shield checks out.

Doesn't explain why you're running an off-the-books operation outside of your jurisdiction.

Maybe your chief can explain.

woman: That won't be necessary.

Agent Wickham, Homeland Security.

Detective Fusco here's been working with us to infiltrate this domestic t*rror1st ring.

Homeland Security running a joint operation with NYPD?

How do you explain that one?

I don't.

Not to you, anyway.

So you gonna show Fusco here some respect, or do I need to call your chief?

Can't believe that actually worked.

Harper, what are you doing here?

Saving your sorry ass, again.

[alarm beeping]

Root: Don't tell me we've already run out of things to talk about.


We've discussed pretty much everything, except for what I'm here to do.

Root: I know what you're here to do, why you've driven all this way.

And I know I can't change your mind.


I won't try.

Then you must also know that this virus is our only chance to defeat Samaritan.

Root: The virus you're appropriating, Ice9, could bring Samaritan to its knees.

But its use will most certainly cause significant collateral damage with devastating consequences.


I understand.

Just as I understand what I must do now.

There's no other choice.

Although I have made another choice of sorts regarding your voice.

Root: And what did you decide?

In life, Root was your conduit.

So despite my reservations, it seems only appropriate that she continue in that function.

And I must confess... hers is a voice that I miss... deeply.

Root: Aww, Harry, you sure know how to make a girl feel special.

man: Security breach.


You've been busy.

Root: They were about to find you.

Had to turn them against each other.

Hold up one sec.


Clear the hallway. Stay alert.

Root: Let me have a word with them.

Intruder spotted at southeast stairwell.

Armed and dangerous, use extreme caution.


Southeast stairwell, let's go.

Root: We'd better get going.

Hands in the air, now.

Terrence Johnson.

There's a man in New Mexico who will be declared brain-dead in two hours.

He's a perfect donor match for your daughter Maria.

I walk onto that elevator alone, and Maria will receive his heart.

If not, Maria goes to the back of the waiting list and will be dead in five weeks.

[dramatic music]

♪ ♪

Secret Service received an anonymous tip regarding the sh**t.

Turned out to be linked to some kind of domestic t*rror1st ring.

That tip came from...

Just a concerned third party.

That was exciting, wasn't it?

Mr. Durban.

Mr. Pierce.

What is all this?

We got your number, John.

The Machine sent you.

Told you our lives were in danger.

Gave us a chance to intervene.

This is my new cause.

Though in this case, it was a little too clear you were the victim and not the perpetrator, and that took some of the fun out.

You're not such a bad guy after all.

Oh, that's endlessly debatable, but no.

No, not in this case.

Reese: Harper?

I think this makes us even, Detectives.

Somebody want to tell me what the hell's going on?

It's simple: the three of us enjoy preventing crimes involving ordinary people.

Well, in your case, maybe not so ordinary.

Reese: They're working for the Machine.

I knew I was being watched.

And your timing at that fund-raiser was impeccable.

You cut the lights at the brownstone.

It was way cooler than that, but yes, that was me.

So while you were busy saving the president...

We were securing your exit strategy.

You guys do what we do?

What, you thought New York had the market cornered on m*rder?

How many more of us do you think there are?

Could be none, could be many. Who's to say?

Hey, John, I've got a parting gift for you.

[suspenseful music]

Couldn't help but notice you were down a member.

How did you get this?

I can't give you all my secrets.

Speaking of which, we got a new number.

[exhales deeply]

Damn things won't stop coming, huh, John?

♪ ♪

Just when I think I've figured out things with you guys.

Come on, it's time to go.

Hey, we just saved the leader of the free world.

Even we can take a minute to enjoy it.

I'm afraid we can't.

We have a number of our own.

Finch.

We have no idea what's coming.

Whatever it is, it's gonna be one hell of a fight.

♪ ♪
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